


Memory

by Hanaasbananas



Series: Hanaa's Bollywood Playlist [8]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03 Chat Blanc, F/M, No Dialogue, but also...I forgot how hot Sid looks in that suit in this movie hot damn, but the CONTEXT of it and just the whole VIBE of it is so depressing i'm like, i'm basically sadness from inside out rn, inspired by bollwood (again), introspective, like its lyrically and musically such a good song, literally this is just full angst, oh god i've been listening to zaroorat all day while i was writing this and now i am just so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaasbananas/pseuds/Hanaasbananas
Summary: I live as an incomplete being,With every breath I am saying:‘I need you. I need you’Chat Blanc lives in the world he has destroyed.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Hanaa's Bollywood Playlist [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818835
Comments: 12
Kudos: 61





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, two fics in a row using songs from the same movie? Yeah I was writing to Banjaara when I decided to listen to the entire Ek Villain soundtrack and this verse at the beginning of the fic really *clenches fist* hurt me. So I decided to write a fic about it. You're welcome. 
> 
> Inspired by:[Zaroorat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMEXKJbsUmE)  
> 

_I had a great relationship with darkness,_ _  
__it was you who pulled me out of the shadows,_ _  
__Now I have returned to the darkness,_ _  
__and I find myself alone here._ _  
__Loneliness is upset with me,_ _  
__even the nomads have turned me away._

**Day One**

The first place he goes to...afterwards, is Marinette’s house, jumping into her bedroom from the window hatch. When he lands, glass crunches underfoot, covering the floor from where his cataclysm caused the windows to shatter, exploding inwards from the force of his destructive power. 

He glances around the room, taking it all in. Had it only been this morning that he’d pestered Marinette awake by peppering kisses all over her face? He can almost _hear_ Marinette’s breathy giggles as she wound her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss, can almost feel her fingers dancing along his skin as he smiled against her lips and allowed himself to be pulled under the covers to snuggle with her for a few more minutes before going to meet Alya and Nino at the park.Chat half expects the trapdoor to open behind him, for Mrs Cheng’s head to pop up as she hands them a plate of croissants, but there is only silence. 

All encompassing, suffocating silence, pressing in on him from all directions. Mrs Cheng is gone. Mr Dupain is gone. _Marinette_ is gone. Gone. Everybody is gone and it’s all his fault. 

If only he hadn’t insisted on getting up, if only they had stayed here in bed all day in each other's arms. If only, if only, if only! 

Wind whistles through the air, drawing his attention to Marinette’s scrapbook on the floor as it’s pages flutter with the breeze. Bending down to pick it up, Chat gingerly flips the pages, stopping when he recognises a photo. It’s from their first date, when they went to André’s together. 

He didn’t realise Marinette had kept the photo. She’d embellished the page as well, framing the photo with stickers, doodling love hearts and flowers all over the page. Tears cloud his vision and Chat swipes them away angrily, before ripping the page out (what’s a little more destruction?), folding it and putting it away in his pocket.

It’s not like she needs it now, anyway.

**Day One Hundred and Eighty Five**

Akumas don’t sleep. Chat’s not sure he’d want to anyway, not when he knows exactly what nightmares he’d have to relive. But sometimes he wishes he could, just for a few moments, just to see Marinette again before he completely forgets what she looks like. 

The photo is well and good, but what about the exact shade of pink her cheeks would turn every time they kissed? Or the way her eyes would darken when she was tired and snuggling into him as they watched a movie. He’s forgetting them, the colours leaching from his memory until the Marinette in his memories is a washed out blur, blowing away like the dust of his cataclysm.

He has blue eyes now. 

Chat spends an entire day examining them, trying to see if there is even a speck of green left. Marinette had always said she loved his eyes. Had talked about having pretty green eyed babies with him when they were older. (he’d always secretly wished their children would have _her_ eyes though. Her eyes and her smile and—)

_He misses her. So much._

When it becomes too much to bear, he goes back to her room, curls up in her bed, pulling the covers over his head and inhaling her scent—floral, slightly fruity—and for one brief, glorious moment, it feels like she’s there again, surrounding him, _embracing_ him, but then it fades, just like everything else he has of her and he is left alone, lying in a cold bed, clutching her sheets to his chest as his face soaks with tears.

**Day Two Hundred and Sixty Three**

He should be used to loneliness. 

Hadn’t he been isolated for most of his life, this past year the only time in his life he’d been granted any sort of freedom? 

And now he has the best of both worlds! Total freedom with a side of complete isolation.

(Father would like that.) 

He should be used to loneliness. It should feel familiar, like a warm blanket around his shoulders, reminding him of his childhood, but how can he accept it, when he knows what it is to be free? When he knows what it is to fly across the city, leaping across rooftops, his Lady by his side? 

_She_ gave him his first taste of freedom. _She_ pulled him out of his darkness and showed him a world so bright, so vibrant, that he was blinded by the sight of her, standing tall, dominating his new world in her red and black suit. 

It stands to reason then, that the world is bleached of all colour, now that she is gone. 

**Day Three Hundred and Forty**

Chat doesn’t know what it’s like to be Adrien anymore. He looks at the photograph in his pocket, lined and creased from how many times he’s folded and unfolded it, and doesn’t recognise the blonde boy in the image.

How could that be him? He stopped doing a double take whenever he saw his reflection almost six months ago, got used to the white, the ice blue, and has almost forgotten what other colours are. 

He knows blue. The blue of her eyes, of her hair. But what else is there? He looks at the photo and cannot name the different hues within it. 

When he visits Ladybug, she is simply grey, like the rest of the world and as he examines her, circling her to see what parts of her he has forgotten, which parts still linger in his mind, he thinks; she was lucky, his lucky ladybug.

She went instantaneously, didn’t have to forget the sound of his laughter, the feel of his hand in hers, the exact colour of his eyes. She went, but she didn’t lose the memory of him.

Chat doesn’t remember what it is to be Adrien anymore, but it is almost a year now since that day and he clings to every memory he has of Marinette, of his love for her even as they continue to slip through his fingers like sand. 

It’s not fair. ‘ _Life isn’t fair’_ he can almost hear his father's snide voice in his head, but he ignores it. _It’s not fair!_ That he should survive, only to forget her, bit by bit until there’s nothing left. 

When he can no longer recall the exact sound of her laugh, or the pitch of her voice...when it’s all gone, what will he be?

Thunder rumbles overhead, his only warning before the torrential downpour begins, soaking him in seconds, but he doesn’t move, standing frozen in place, the urge to _destroydestroydestroy_ bubbling up in his chest until he can’t hold it in, until he drops to his knees, clutching his hair, and _screams_. 

_I live as an incomplete being,  
_ _I am a punishment for myself_  
 _and am calling out to you:_  
 _'I just need you. I need you'_

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on:  
> [tumblr](https://hanaasbananas.tumblr.com/)  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/hanaasbananaswrites/)


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